Under Pressure
by TheMarauderBandit
Summary: Between the grinding dirt, and the stress of near-loneliness, Giants pitcher Tim Lincecum finds a kindred spirit, who's willing to do anything to help her rolemodel with his career, and the sport they both love most. A girl with good intentions, Raegan innocently finds her way into Timmy's life, winning the hearts of the entire Giants team as well. Rated T for mild language.


_So, this is my first story/update in a long while. And yes, I realize it is about Tim Lincecum. *Blush* I've been rather into him and the Giants lately... and with me suddenly becoming a fan, I just _had_ to write a fanfiction. It was extemely fun, and I hope you all enjoy it! Buon divertimento!_

_I don't own anything you recognize. If only I did, though. Now I sound like a stalker. Great. On with the show._

_~Bandit_

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Under Pressure

Chapter 1

The only sound that could be heard through the golden, elegantly decorated hall was the sound of beating footsteps. Raegan was a blur as she pounded down the hallway, curving around corners in an expert fashion. As she neared the staircase, she slid to a stop, pulling the bag tighter around her shoulders, before tugging at the handle. When it didn't open, she gave a small groan of frustration, before pressing her nose up against the glass to look through. There it was: six levels of staircases. She breathed out a disappointed sigh, before turning, and walking dejectedly towards the elevator. Raegan beamed when she heard a ding, and continued her sprint, just barely managing to slide through the golden, closing doors.

She pitched herself to the edge of the elevator, her chest heaving as she gave herself a satisfied grin. She might not have been able to sprint down the stairs, but at least she'd made it to the elevator. She hated working after hours. Glancing up, her bright eyes studied her companion—the only other person in the elevator. Raegan recognized the long hair, grey beanie, old-timey sunglasses, and over-sized earphones at once. The star athlete had one hand grasped onto his shoulder bag, and the other fiddling with the earphones as he looked at the ground. A sort of sniffling sound came from him, but Raegan knew he wasn't crying.

She finally cleared her throat, just loud enough to be heard over the cheap elevator music. "You're Tim Lincecum." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. She'd recognize her favorite athlete when she saw him.

"Yeah, you want some autographs? A picture?" His tone was harsh, something Raegan was a bit used to, and he kept his gaze pinned on the ground the entire time.

"No, I just saw who you were, that's all," she shrugged, before looking away, and shifting the weight of the seemingly small bag on her shoulder. "I'm a big fan, to be honest."

"Oh, are you?" He laughed mockingly, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You know," Raegan tried slyly, "I sit by this girl, right above the dugout. Her name is Melanie, and she claims, it's really funny, actually—she claims that you're her boyfriend. It's ridiculous, but…"

He finally tilted his head up towards her, interest sparking inside him. "You know Melanie?"

"Oh yeah, we're real good friends," she grinned, before crossing her arms, smirking a bit. "It's a shame, really. She misses so many of those games. Your games, and she's always so sad about it."

His gaze lingered on her, and his eyebrows continued to crease. He pursed his lips, tugging one of the earphones away from his ear, and beginning to study her. "Where have I seen you before?"

At this, Raegan chuckled, before bowing slightly. "I am a journalist, or training to be. I'm often one of the ones beside the people interviewing you."

"Oh, how fantastic. You're a reporter," he rolled his eyes under the dark sunglasses, and dropped his gaze again.

She sighed, before speaking again, "The name's Raegan, if you care to know. And like I said, I'm not actually the one interviewing you. My partner, Joel, does most of the work. He asks you the questions, says all the annoying stuff. I just record it, write it down, make sure they don't try to humiliate you too much. Simple stuff." She shrugged, before looking around the elevator.

"So, that's you then." His voice was dry, but he was obviously interested. The music had stopped playing from the earphones a while ago, and the elevator was the only thing that kept them from complete silence. "A reporter. You're there every start?"

"For you, and you only," she nodded, smiling a bit at him, "I've been at it for four years now, and they still haven't promoted me."

"How sad," his interest had diminished, and she knew he wasn't interested in a fan like her. Besides, it wasn't like he was all too fond of her in the first place.

She studied him for a moment, before a light dusting of blush appear on her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip, and habit she'd picked up when she'd first started to watch Giants games. "Are you okay?" She tried softly, barely glancing at him. Something was wrong, she could tell.

"What is a simple girl like you doing here?" He snapped, a bit too harshly. Raegan could tell at once that something was on his mind, and knowing him—the usually caring person, who was still adjusting to fame, and only got annoyed with himself, she decided not to push it.

"I hope you realize it's nearly ninety degrees outside, and you're wearing a beanie," Raegan smirked a bit, before continuing to talk, "And it's cloudy too, so what's the point of sunglasses?"

He just snorted, and turned away from her, acting as though he were distracted by the music. Raegan rolled her eyes at his childishness.

"If it's so you can be in disguise, it doesn't work very well," she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at him, before giving him a satisfactory look. "You should at the very least try a mustache. I mean, why not go full out? Fake mustache, poncho, sombrero, the whole gig? You could go around introducing yourself as 'Pedro'."

That at least got a laugh out of him, and when Raegan took a closer look, she could tell he was smiling, something that she knew hadn't happened in a while. His face was glowing, and his eyes sparkled, beneath the sunglasses. He looked healthy. Happy. "I'm not tan enough to act like this 'Pedro' you've made up," he snickered, before matching her smirk.

"Tan compared to me," she frowned in feign sadness, before moving forward in one sudden stroke, before comparing her arm to his. He gave her a sideways look, before glancing at her skin, which wasn't exactly pale, but paler than him.

The elevator dinged, and gave a lurched, signaling that they'd hit the ground floor. She fell backwards, stumbling a bit, and felt herself being caught. She looked over to Tim, only to notice he'd caught her by the arm. "Be careful," he gave her a small smile, before adjusting the bag, and then his earphones.

He let go of her arm, his skin warmer than hers. She quickly blushed, and looked away, all arrogance gone in a second. "I'm sorry," she muttered, before backing away, and adjusting her bag as well.

He gave her a grin, barely showing her his teeth. "There's nothing to be sorry about." The doors slowly opened, and he beckoned for her to step forward.

Chuckling a bit, Raegan brushed her dark hair from her eyes, before faking a curtsey, and thanking him, padded through the open doors. She glanced at Tim, who was taking his sweet time in walking through the elevator. He smiled at her, before nodding. "See you around, then?" Raegan asked softly as they began to walk side-by-side through the lobby of the building.

"I guess I will, huh?" He sent her a sideways glance, his shy side coming out as he drew back a bit.

"I come to every game, whether a journalist or not, so expect to see me in the crowds," she winked, walking a bit faster than her so she could get to the door first.

"Hey, wait. Can I get you a ride somewhere?" She turned back to him in surprise at his offer.

How did he know that she didn't have a car? Glancing down at her feet, she saw the worn tennis shoes, that had obviously been walked on thousands of times. Ah, of course. But had he really been studying her that closely? She shifted a bit in discomfort. "No, that's all right, my apartment's not far from here."

Tim gained a disappointed look, as though he wanted to be polite. Raegan felt kind of bad, but gave a small laugh. He was being sweet just the way he was. In all truth, since she'd been rejected from her college's softball team, she'd been trying to exercise as much as she could. She enjoyed running, and being on the field; hearing the crowd's cheers exhilarated her. She loved being able to do what she loved, and that was playing softball. She looked over at Tim, who was raising his eyebrows at her, suddenly embarrassed she'd zoned off like that.

"Well, bye," he shifted uncomfortably, before walking out into the cloudy parking lot of San Francisco.

Raegan watched him as he left, before blushing, and turning, so she was facing away from the player, giving a small squeal. He was her role model, and her _role model_ had just talked to her. _Her_. She saw him every fifth game, every single one of his starts, sure. But this was the first time he'd actually talked to her, looked at her, showed any signs that he knew she existed. Placing her hands on her cheeks, she found herself not being able to stop grinning. She jumped up and down a couple of times, before checking the clock on the lobby's wall. It was nearly eight o' clock. Snapping into attention, Raegan turned, before gaining a mischievous glint in her eye. She reached into her pockets, before pulling out her cellphone, and dialing the first number she thought of.

Shifting from foot to foot, she laughed a couple of times, her energy catching up with her. "Melanie!" She shouted into the phone as soon as the blonde muttered a greeting. "If you break up with that man, I swear, I'll kill you…"

**O-o-O-o-O**

Looking towards the ground, Tim forced himself to take a deep breath. His shoulders were shaking as he brushed his dark hair from his face, and he was staring directly at a puddle of spilled Gatorade that rested on the dugout floor. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, and recognized who the person was even before they spoke.

"What's on your mind?" Buster Posey, who was once again playing first instead of catching, asked gently, meeting Tim's gaze with concern. The pitcher shrugged, and turned instead to watch as the rest of the team got ready in the clubhouse. "C'mon, buddy, I can tell something's up. Just spill."

"I'm just thinking, alright?" Tim replied, getting angry quicker than usual. He turned, so that Buster was forced to remove his hand from his shoulder. "Is that going to be a problem now?"

Buster raised his hands in surrender, before smiling innocently. He wouldn't let the pitcher's seemingly angry demeanor get through him. "Who'd you meet this time? Another European girl?"

Tim huffed, and crossed his arms, before leaning against the wall of the dugout. "No."

Posey thought for a moment, pursing his lips, before fixing the cap on his head. Tim bit his bottom lip, before raising his dark green eyes from the floor. "Well, who'd you meet then? Was it bad?"

"No, she was cool." He let slip on accident, "Damn it!" He cursed, turning away as Buster chuckled.

"What's her name?" He pushed Tim further, giving his friend a knowing smile. Buster grinned, his eyes sparkling.

"It doesn't matter, she's just—she's nice, alright? Just a fan." He sent Buster a sideways glance. "And besides, I would never cheat on Melanie. I just ran into a girl yesterday."

Still, Buster kept the grin on his face. "What's her name?" He repeated. "C'mon, you know you can tell me everything."

"I'm more afraid of the rest of the team finding out, actually." Tim replied in teasing manner, before running his hands repeatedly through his dark hair. Often times, he was nicknamed the diva of the group, from all the times he was constantly fixing his hair. He didn't mind. "They'll be sure to spill to the media, and things could get ugly. We just barely managed to keep Melanie from the reporters."

Buster snickered, before placing a hand on his heart, in feign injury. "I'm wounded, Timmy, really. You think I'd just completely tell everyone on the team about this without your permission?" Tim gave him a dry look, in which Buster laughed, before offering the elder his hand. "I swear I won't."

Tim clapped his hand into Buster's, before finally allowing himself to smile. "Alright, here name's Raegan. She's a reporter, one of the ones who interviews me every start sort of thing. I bumped into her in an elevator."

Buster raised his eyebrows. "A reporter, ooh." He then smirked, and looked up to the crowds who were already filing into the stadium. "You didn't literally bump into her, did you?"

Tim chuckled, before placing his hand on Buster's shoulder as the younger had done not moments before. "Fortunately not. She just ran in as soon as the doors were about to close. I think she'd been working late in the office."

"And what were you doing in the office?" He pestered Tim, nudging him a bit with his elbow. He was pretty sure he knew, but didn't want to assume. You never could with Timmy; the guy was so mysterious.

"Nothing," he mumbled, suddenly drawing back from Buster, and turning towards the dark corner of the dugout. "It's nothing. Nothing important."

"Oh, really? I hardly think what you had in mind was of no importance," Buster wiggled his eyebrows, causing Tim to smirk, and snort at his friend. "C'mon, Tim. I know what you were doing, there's no reason to hide it, just spit it ou-."

"You two ready to start?" Buster was interrupted by a man that came strolling in from the clubhouse. They both shut up at once, looking at Bruce Bochy, before Tim nodded to the manager.

"Of course." Buster said, before pulling his glove on. The rest of the team filed out, and Tim forced himself to take a deep breath, to calm his nerves, and his whirring mind, before heading out after them.

**O-o-O-o-O**

The sound of the cheers were deafening as the entire crowd of AT&T Park rose to their feet, and screamed at the top of their lungs. They all brought their hands together to make a clapping sound, and one girl in the crowd couldn't keep the grin from her face. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was one of the few wearing a white jersey with the numbers '55' printed on it. She was jumping up and down, and her eyes were pinned on only one player—the skinny guy with long hair, who was standing proudly on the pitcher's mound. She watched as the opposing team's batter stormed away from the plate, throwing his bat to the ground in anger. She gave a small laugh. This was the fourth strikeout of the game, and the Nationals were getting a bit mad. She figured they were disappointed Timmy was doing so good.

It wasn't until the buzzing cheer of the crowd died down, and everyone returned to her seat that she heard her phone going off, signaling a text message. Raegan leaned against the dugout, grinning at her seat choice, before pulling out her phone as the Giants hurried back into the dugout to prepare for their turn at offense. She looked at the bright screen, which glared in the Californian sun, before barely managing to make out it from Melanie.

'_How's my boy doing?_' It simply read, and Raegan smirked at the words. The busy girl had been forced to travel to Missouri for a business trip, and wasn't happy to say the least. Three innings in, and the girl had already texted her six times. The brunette wasn't complaining though—she was glad Melanie was so dedicated to Timmy.

'_Same as last time you asked. We're winning by five, and just got a strikeout. Up to bat._' She replied quickly, before looking at the field, grinning as the players filed out into their positions.

She took a deep breath, the smell of the bay reaching her nose, mixed with popcorn, and hotdogs. From her position by the dugout, she could just make out the faint aroma of Gatorade, leather, and sweat. It didn't sound exactly charming, but Raegan was glad she was so near to her favorite team.

"Hey," Raegan jumped at once at the unfamiliar voice, before turning and meeting the soft gaze of one Buster Posey. Her eyes widened at once as she looked into his calm, hazel eyes. She licked her lips, staring at her favorite player for a moment—two years of being in the seat, right next to the dugout, and not once had a player interacted with her.

"Uh, hi," she said softly, before going a deep shade of red. She hadn't acted this way with Tim, had she? But of course, she saw Tim a lot more often than she did Buster.

He gave her a kind smile, resting his arms on the edge of the dugout, before getting a better look of her. The other people in the crowd around her were starting to notice, and were now snickering a bit. "I've noticed you've been around here a lot. And by a lot, I mean every single game. You a fan?"

She found the question, and bit pointless, but breathed out her reaction anyways. "A big one. I love you guys. You're all so great." She stopped herself before she could ramble further on, stuffing her hands into her pockets, looking bashfully to the ground.

She heard him chuckle softly, and she found herself raising her eyes once again to meet his kind gaze. He studied her for a moment, before smirking lightly. "You like Timmy?" He nodded to her jersey.

Raegan didn't even have to look down, and nodded enthusiastically. "I do, and I have ever since he's joined the team." She stated matter-of-factly, before unlodging one of her hands from her pockets, and messing with her ponytail a bit.

They both paused their conversation to turn back to the game as the clank of a bat resounded through the stadium. Raegan started to cheer, noticing that Theroit had hit a double. Buster did a little fist pump, and past him, she could see the rest of the players clapping.

"Are you nervous?" He asked gently, turning his attention back to her.

"Yes, just a little," she blushed deeply, before scrambling to explain, "I mean, I've talked to one of the players before, just never like this, and only once, and so…" she trailed off, before biting her bottom lip. He smiled at her.

"Wait right here, I'll be right back," he disappeared from sight, and shifting from foot to foot, Raegan quickly pulled out her phone, glancing at the game as the next batter got his second strike. She cursed quickly, not paying attention to who the batter even was, before beginning to type away on her phone.

'_Mel, I just met Buster Posey._' She thought for a moment, before smirking, and looking over to the dugout. '_By the time you come home, I'll be best friends with the entire team._'

She laughed a little, before tucking the phone away again. The clattering of cleats against the dugout's pavement warned her of Buster Posey coming near, with another person as well, it seemed like. She snapped her head up at once, brushing her dark hair from eyes.

"Excuse me, but I'd like you to meet one of my good friends," Buster spoke as he neared her again, peering over the dugout wall, before smiling, "Tim Lincecum." Tim appeared from behind Buster, raising an eyebrow at the catcher, before catching sight of Raegan, and giving a smile. "Tim, meet one of your very loyal fans."

Raegan blushed, before Tim offered her his hand. She took it, and they shook gently. "Nice to see you again," Tim said lightly, causing a look of confusion to flicker over Buster's face, but he allowed them to continue.

"It is," a small smile graced Raegan's pale lips, and she folded her arms, taking her hand from Tim's. "You've been doing wonderfully."

"Thanks," he muttered under his breath, before grinning over at Buster, who was raising his eyebrows, looking for some sort of explanation. "Oh, this is Raegan."

She smirked at him, "Oh, this is Raegan?" Buster said, as if under great understanding, "It's very nice to meet you, Miss Raegan. Tim's been talking about you all morning."

The elder looked away instantly, going almost as red as she had, "Oh, so you've been talking about me now?" She raised her eyebrows in a teasing way, a smirk appearing on her lips. "I don't know whether or not that's a compliment."

Tim looked bashful, shuffling his feet, and glancing at the floor. "It's a compliment. I don't just trash-talk everyone." He said, just as mischievously, his eyes glinting as he finally looked up, finding his tongue.

Raegan allowed another smile to tug at her lips. "Cute," she looked over at the game, "But we both have a game to tend to." She grinned, before shooing him off. "I'll see you later, this time for sure. Try to not favor me too much."

"Please, the last thing that will be on my mind is you," he replied back, before nodding at Buster, and walking away, a certain demeanor to him that just made Raegan smile.

"Hey, Raegan?" Buster asked, just before turning away. She raised her eyebrows at him, her expression kind, before she nodded at him.

"Yes?" She shifted uncomfortably again, playing with the ends of her ponytail like some sort of love-struck school girl, but found she felt no attraction towards either of them. Sure, they were cute, and very sweet, but they were both taken. She wasn't one to cheat, and she wasn't one to encourage cheating; and besides, she was just a regular girl. What would they see in her?

"I know Tim's too shy to ask this," he started off, and Raegan gave a small huff in agreement, "but I know he'd like your number, and I saw you had a cellphone there, so…"

"Oh, yeah!" Raegan said in sudden realization, before digging through her pockets clumsily. "Here," she pulled out a small scrap of paper, before pulling a pen from her ponytail—she held it there, concealed, just in case. "I'm a reporter, so naturally I carry a pen everywhere," she snickered in explanation, before quickly writing down her number, and handing it to him. She knew all players kept their cellphones in the locker room, so she hoped he'd keep it safe.

"Thanks," he smiled, before accepting it, and tucking it away in his back pocket. "I'll give it to Timmy later. He'll be pleased." Buster winked.

Raegan grinned, "Good luck, by the way." She said suddenly, but she knew the Giants would win. Buster muttered his thanks again, before turning, and with another smile, headed deeper into the dugout. She turned towards the game—frowning a bit when she realized that she'd missed two runs, but otherwise grinning. The score was 9-2. She was happy there would be a joyful mood in the interview this time, something that'd been lacking for the past few.

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**A/N: So, this game was based off of no particular game. Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be up soon~**

**(P.S. If you want to watch the trailer I've made for this, check the link on my profile.)**


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